THE BALLAD OF MARGARET AND DANIEL:THE first time Margaret Devaney saw Daniel O'Donnell he was changing backstage at The Ballroom, where she worked as a cleaner. When the owner wasn't looking she hovered, mop in hand, outside Daniel's dressing room. Through a crack, she could make out the singer's bare leg and stockinged foot. She let out a sigh.
“Showtime,” she heard him say. His voice made her think of a man she slow danced with in 1971. A time before marriage and children, before being widowed, before meals for one and only the cat for company. She didn’t even like his music that much. But there was something about Daniel. The curl of his lip, the way his hair was arranged, the smile in his eyes. When he laughed, on stage or on the Late Late Show, he made her feel like a girl again.
The second time she saw Daniel, she was driving home from The Ballroom and he was standing a few minutes from her house in the rain. She stopped and wound down the window.
“Car’s broken down,” he said. “And I’ve got no signal, could I use your mobile?” Margaret Devaney didn’t have one.
“What about the phone above in the house?” she wondered.
It was like a dream. She ushered him into the Good Room. Put him in her late husband’s favourite chair.
“What’s your name?”
“Margaret. I’m Margaret Grace Frances Devaney.”
“I’m Daniel.”
“I know who you are. I, ah, I like your music.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, Margaret.”
She remembered there was a half-full bottle of Power’s Gold Label in the cabinet from Christmas. She poured herself one, to make a sweet moment even sweeter. She asked if he’d join her and giggled when Daniel said he’d prefer a cup of tea. “Can I use the loo, Maggie?” he said after he gulped down his drink.
“Of course, Daniel, second on the left.”
Too late, she thought of the bathroom. The framed photo of him above the toilet, the Mrs DO’D monogrammed towels and, good sacred heart of Jesus, what about the roll of toilet paper her eldest had sent her as a joke? Daniel’s face was all over it.
She said nothing when he came out. She said nothing when the flash car arrived to whisk him away. Hours later, when she couldn’t hold it in any more, she found he had autographed everything in the bathroom, from the framed photo to the toilet paper. And resting on the bidet were two tickets to his next big show up in Dublin.
Margaret Devaney laughed so loud she woke the cat. Then she went back into the Good Room and raised her glass to an empty chair.
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The 1980s campaign for Power’s Gold Label was an extraordinarily successful campaign. So here’s a challenge for our readers. Write a short story in only 450 words that mentions Powers Gold Label, on the topic of “celebrating what really matters”. The prize €10,000 and publication in The Irish Times. For online entries see irishtimes.com/competitions/powers/. For postal entries send in your entry with your name, email address and telephone numbers to Power’s Competition, The Irish Times, 24-28 Tara Street, Dublin 2. The closing date is Friday, June 3rd, 2011. For full terms and conditions, email marketing @irishtimes.com.